Story of Our Love
by Obsidian Sins
Summary: I decided to set my iPod to shuffle and then try and weave a story together out of the first ten songs. Each chapter is inspired by a song and written in the time it takes to play. Heavy Lucius/Narcissa. Possibly AU. Please R/R!
1. Soulmate

A/N: I recommend listening to the songs as you read the stories for the full effect.

**Soulmate – Natasha Beddingfield**

I should be happy.

I've got the looks, the money, the well-bred manner, and the undeniably pure lineage.

Bloody hell, I've even got the girl. The most beautiful girl in my year at Hogwarts. Perfect hourglass figure, short chestnut hair, and a bank account that could nearly rival my own. Nearly.

But as I hold court in the common room, my slate grey eyes can't help but wander over to the corner where I know _she's_ hiding. Reading, no doubt. She's _always_ reading.

A true enigma. Not malicious like her eldest sister. Nor deceptively friendly like the other. I wonder if she even belongs in Slytherin. Or perhaps did she demand to be placed here for propriety's sake?

A wispy strand of blonde hair falls in front of her face and she doesn't bother brushing it out of the way. I have the sudden urge to do it myself but that comes as no surprise. I've been longing for an excuse to touch her for three years now.

It doesn't matter that she's thin as a twig or that her foolish uncle has gambled the family fortune away. I want her more than I've ever wanted anything – or anyone – in my entire life.

And I always get what I want.

As if she can feel my stare, she glances up at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers. I repress a shudder at the intensity of her gaze, but find myself unable to look away.

We stay like that, just staring at each other, until long after the others have gone to bed. I don't know which of us was the first to move, but suddenly we're standing in the middle of the room and she's wrapped in my arms. Before either of us can realize the stupidity of it all (if either of our fiancés were to catch us, there'd be hell to pay), I crush my lips to hers without remorse. She gasps and I use the opportunity to bring us closer, slipping my tongue into her mouth and fisting my hands in her hair.

She moans, her fingers already working to remove my robes, but the sound of approaching footsteps startles us both and then we're back at one. Her in the chair, me lounging on the couch by the fire.

Theodore Nott emerges from the stairwell a moment later. "Narcissa? Shall I see you to your room?"

She nods and moves to join her fiancé, but when she passes, I hear two whispered words of departure. "Goodnight, Lucius."

"Goodnight," I reply just as quietly.

Goodnight indeed.

But not goodbye.


	2. Charmed Life

**Charmed Life – Leigh Nash**

Every time I step foot in Grimmauld Place, I'm struck with the nearly uncontrollable urge to poison my aunt's idiot husband, Orion. What little bit of the fortune he hasn't lost to gambling has been used in the vain attempt to restore the respectability of the Black name. Of course, considering the fact that _Sirius_ is the heir, I wonder why bother? He's already thrown his lot in with the Gryffindors and that pretentious moron, James Potter. Really, even Andromeda (Hufflepuff that she should be), had the sense to demand placement in Slytherin simply to avoid shaming the name. But not Sirius. No, _of course_ not.

And, thanks to all of this, I've been forced to live little better than a plebian for the majority of my life. When I should have been attending balls in hand-tailored clothes, I'd had to shop at stores open to the general public. Instead of maids and servants a plenty, my dear mother had to run our entire household with only one elf to assist her.

It's a crime, really.

One that I've finally rectified.

"Narcissa!" Bellatrix exclaims. "Where did you get all _that_?"

She's pointing, of course, at the massive pile of presents surrounding my bed in the Slytherin dormitory. Of the twenty-some gifts, only four are from our parents. The rest come with no name tag, but I'm sure of the sender.

My dorm mates, before they rushed downstairs to allow Bella and I some privacy, showed much the same curiosity and shock. But really, I'm wondering how thick they could possibly be. Really, there's only one wizard at Hogwarts that could afford the extravagance of cashmere robes, Elvin made wine, and jewelry galore.

Instead of answering, I hand Bella the most precious present of the lot and as she opens the rectangular box, I can almost see her mind putting all the clues together.

"Cissy," she whispers, shooting me a look of awe, "it's _magnificent_."

I smile in agreement. She is not speaking of the baby blue gown covered in crystals that lies in the box. Or the special invitation to the singularly most important social event of the year that lies on top of it. No, it's the note attached that has finally earned me the respect of my eldest sister.

_I'll be arriving at 8 to escort you myself._

_-LM_

The gifts, the invitation, the note can only mean one thing.

"I can't _wait_ to see the look on Priscilla Yaxley's face when Lucius dumps her for you! Oh, she's been so smug this year, I only wish I could be the one to finally put her in her place."

Bella cackles manically and, while this would usually earn her a frown of disapproval, I can't help but join in. Because things are finally starting to go the way they should. In favor of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. We'll finally be living the life we deserve.

I lean against my headboard and smile in contentment as Bella babbles on about the ingeniousness of it all. Though I'd never admit as much out loud, the best bit of it all is that I'll finally have the man I've been longing for since I first saw him seven years ago on Platform 9 3/4. No more secret rendezvous, no more Priscilla draping herself over top of him like a cheap tart, no more Nott. I've no doubt he'll announce our engagement at his Midsummer's Ball and for the first time in my life, I wish for nothing more than the school year to end.

June 21 could not come soon enough.


	3. Moonlight Sonata

**Moonlight Sonata – Beethoven**

Abraxas Malfoy lounged regally in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled and eyes watching with amusement as England's most pure and noble patriarch's fought like spoiled toddlers. Luthor Nott and Dorian Yaxley were, quite obviously, furious. And, Abraxas had to admit, if the tables were turned and it were Priscilla asking to be released of her betrothal, he would have been as well.

"Gentlemen, let us be reasonable," Cygnus Black implored.

"Of course you would say that, Black," Dorian snapped, "it's your treacherous daughter that's undoubtedly come up with this plan. A pathetic attempt to save your crumbling family from--"

His words were cut off as he was suddenly blasted across the room. Abraxas, under different circumstances, might have been mildly impressed by the display of wandless magic. But as the trio had been arguing for hours, it only served to annoy him further. Luthor and Dorian (his head now bleeding rather unfortunately all over Abraxas' favorite Oriental rug) drew their wands to retaliate, but the Malfoy elder decided this nonsense had gone on for too long.

"That is enough," he snarled, speaking for the first time since his announcement of Lucius and Narcissa's intentions. "There is no need to continue this useless debate any longer. I have decided in favor of my son and you would do well to do the same."

"Why should we?" Luthor hissed.

"Think about it, Abraxas," Dorian reasoned, "what do you stand to gain from an alliance with the Blacks? Narcissa's dowry is a pittance in comparison to Priscilla's. And our blood is just as pure."

"Really?" Cygnus sneered. "Because if I recall, there was some question as to your grandmother Marjorie's fidelity, especially in regards to that Mudblood Gregory Ja--"

"Silence!" Abraxas roared.

The other men were quick to obey, never having heard the leader of the Malfoy clan sound so enraged.

"I grow tired of this foolishness. I informed you gentlemen of the change in engagement as a courtesy, but do not fool yourselves." His eyes stared hard at Dorian and Luthor, ensuring they knew his words were absolute. "Yaxley and Nott are powerful names. Rich names. And if you wish to keep them so you will follow my advice. There is no need for anyone to lose face. You will inform your children to act as if this was a mutual decision. That Priscilla and Theodore found themselves more compatible, and so did Lucius and Narcissa."

"But Abraxas," Dorian all but pleaded, "you can't really believe that high society would buy such a--"

"Of course not," Abraxas interrupted coolly. "But they will not question it either for I will say that it is so. And, for your cooperation, I will ensure that you, Dorian and Luthor, are rewarded handsomely."

The debate seemed to end there, for the men knew that there was no arguing with Abraxas Malfoy. Not if you wished to live.

Once the necessary contracts had been signed and deals made, Dorian Yaxley and Luthor Nott quickly exited the room, eager to be away from Abraxas Malfoy and the embarrassment of the situation.

"Why are you so willing to go along with this?" Cygnus questioned, out of curiosity more than anything else.

True, the Blacks would gain enormously from this arrangement, and so Cygnus was grateful to the young master Malfoy's infatuation with his daughter. But there was no logical reason for Abraxas to break off his son's engagement with Priscilla Yaxley. Everything Dorian had said was undeniably true.

"Logic has nothing to do with it," Abraxas answered and Cygnus was rather perturbed to realize his mind had been so easy to penetrate.

"My family is powerful, Cygnus. There is no one in England my son could marry that would greater or lessen that power. So, why not let him choose his own bride?"

Later that night, as Abraxas lay in bed with his own wife, he thought back to his conversation with Cygnus Black. He'd not been completely honest, but then again, when was he ever?

In truth, Abraxas had promised his son long ago that, as a Malfoy, nothing would ever be denied to him.

Even if that something was the most dangerous of all gifts.

Love.


	4. Beautifully Broken

Dedicated to Claire Henry. My sole reviewer. Even though the story has been hit 60+ times… come on everyone! How long does it take to just write a one-line review?

But thank you very much, Claire Henry. I'm glad you love the story and your words are extremely encouraging. It's hard to weave together 10 random songs to make a cohesive plot.

**Beautifully Broken – Ashlee Simpson**

My husband is cheating on me.

Oh, not with another woman. No, he loves me far too much to ever do something so crass.

But he's still cheating on me.

He denies it, but there's no other word for what's going on. I fall asleep alone, only to wake up with him next to me, his body marked by another. He missed our second anniversary last month and, though he claims it couldn't have been helped, I know where he was: cheating, again.

Voldemort, he says, is his master.

But he tears Lucius away from me, tricks a once unstoppably powerful man into being his lap dog, and abuses him to the point of near-death, only to call upon him not a day later and seduce him with promises of things never to come.

Master, he says. But I call him mistress.

I've no problem with Lucius killing Mudbloods and the like. In fact, were he the leader of this rebellion, I'd support him whole heartily. But to know he grovels before another man, pledges his obedience to someone who is not even truly pure… that is unbearable.

He promised me I'd always come first.

I knew I'd married a liar, but I never thought his talents would be turned on me.

I wrap my arms around my perfectly slim belly and hot tears of regret and anger and other things I can't even begin to name pour down my cheeks. The doctors say I may never be able to have children. Lucius has sworn it doesn't matter, that we'll find away around it.

But it's just another lie.

He needs an heir. And I need a child, one who I can protect because part of me feels that all of this is my fault.

When Voldemort first begun recruiting, we'd had a choice. Join the rebellion or quietly support it from the sidelines. Our purity of blood would have protected us from persecution, but no. I assured him it was the right decision, that we should help further this noble cause.

What a fool I was.

But I swear, one day I will fix this.

No matter what it takes.


	5. Breathe

**Breathe – Anna Nalick**

My wife is dying.

The very thought makes my blood run cold and my breath catch.

Worse, there's nothing I can do. And I'm the one who's brought her here.

Blood-curling screams echo from the birthing room and it's all I can do not to rush in there and blast the incompetent nursemaids and mediwizards to hell.

Cissa. My beautiful, intelligent, too-good-for-me Cissa.

We shouldn't have tried so hard. I should have found another way. Because I'm terrified of losing her. Terrified of not being good enough for our son. Terrified that if he lives when she doesn't, I'll never forgive him for it.

Suddenly, everything's quiet and that terrifies me even more.

I'm about to burst into the room and demand an update when the door opens and the elderly witch motions me in.

She smiles reassuringly, but I still enter with trepidation.

When I see Narcissa, her hair dripping with sweat and face deathly white, holding a small, green bundle, it's like the world has stopped spinning. Nothing else matters. Not Voldemort or the war or my father's recent demise.

It's just me and her and our son.

"Lucius," she murmurs, "do you want to hold him?"

I nod and she carefully places the tiny baby in my arms. He's wide awake, unusual for one so small. As soon as he sees me, his eyes (a perfect combination of my stormy grey and Cissa's crystal blue) widen and he begins to coo.

Behind me, the nurses begin to blather on about how rare that is, but I pay them no mind.

"He didn't even cry when he was born," Cissa continues and I can hear the hint of pride in her voice. "Gave the mediwizard quite a scare."

I smile down at him, unable to contain myself. "That's my boy."

He snuggles deeper into my arms and I can feel my eyes begin to water.

"We'd like some privacy," Narcissa suddenly demands, and I don't think I've ever appreciated her as much as I do at that moment.

"But Mrs. Malfoy--"

"Now."

Her tone gives them no room to argue and so they all exit.

As the first tear trickles down my face, I look up to find her in the same state. Gently placing the boy back in her arms, I crawl onto the bed beside her and wrap her in my warm embrace.

"Lucius," she breathes as she begins to cry in earnest.

"I know, Cissa, I know," I whisper back.

There's no need to say I love her. The smile on her face lets me know she can feel my emotions pouring off me like tidal waves.

For the first time in my life, I feel utterly complete. I have everything I could possibly want.

"He's perfect," she says, placing a tender kiss on his aristocratic nose.

And he is. Our perfect, baby boy.

Our Draco.


	6. Those Were The Days My Friend

A/N: Thanks to Claire Henry for continuing to review. And to Alatarielf for such flattering words. I'm so pleased you are enjoying this little venture of mine.

**Those Were The Days My Friend – Mary Hopkins**

It's over. The war lost. And I know I should mourn the death of Voldemort, the imprisonment of my sister and her husband, and the fact that our world will forever be tainted by Mudblood filth.

But I don't have it in me to do anything but celebrate.

By the skin of our teeth, my family escaped unscathed. And it seems the charmed life I once thought lost to me forever is back once more. Lucius no longer leaves in the middle of the night only to return bruised and bloodied. I no longer worry that Draco will be raised without a father.

To be honest, it almost seems like it happened to someone else. And in the peace that has followed since the Dark Lord's demise, we've all adapted wonderfully. Lucius has filled enough pockets of greedy politicians that we're still one of the most widely respected – and sometimes feared – wizarding families in Great Britain. Hezekiah Parkinson (who's wife Calliope comes over twice weekly for tea with her adorable daughter Pansy) was rewarded handsomely by all the Death Eater families he was able to prove 'innocent.' Even Jasper Bulstrode – thick as he is – was able to maintain his high-ranking position at the Ministry.

And now, two years later, we've done what Slytherins do best: saved our own arses and to hell with everyone else.

It's much easier to look back on the past with fond memories of valiant fighting and aspirations of purification when the ones I love are no longer in danger. Tonight is one such night. A meeting of old friends and allies.

We're using the more casual of our three dining halls, as there are only a few of us. Lucius and myself, the Parkinsons, Bulstrodes, Crabbes, and Goyles. And of course, Severus Snape.

Hezekiah has just recounted one of his and Lucius' more daring escapades and we can't help but laugh. Even Severus, who's been much more withdrawn as of late.

"Ah yes," Lucius calls, his eyes dancing with mirth and mischief, "those were the days my friend!"

Later, alone in our room, I curl up next to Lucius. "Do you miss it terribly?"

He gazes down at me and the look of passion in eyes produces a pool of desire in my nether regions. "Only on occasion, my dear. And never on a night like this."

We made love until long after the sun had risen and I know it's something we never could have done were the Dark Lord still around.

The memory of Lucius' lips on my pert breast, the way his hand stroked me to climax, how I only feel complete when he cums inside of me… it's all I can do not to moan aloud the following day when we're shopping in Diagon Alley.

It's Draco's third birthday and, as is tradition, we're spoiling him rotten. Anything he so much as shows an interest in is his. The new Silver Arrow racing broom (of course, we get a training version meant for little ones), a majestic eagle owl from Eeylop's Owl Emporium, and one of every flavor from Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

Along the way, we pass the Weasleys and their horde of annoying brats. I admit, I'm quite proud of my Draco (who walks and talks like any proper pureblood child should), especially in comparison to the obnoxious and uncontrollable behavior that Arthur and Molly's children display. Lucius – miraculously – refrains from starting a squabble with the Blood-traitors, settling instead on shooting Arthur a chilling sneer. Today _is_ about our son after all.

"Father," Draco inquires, sounding far older than his three years, "can we go somewhere else?"

Lucius looks down at him, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. "Certainly, son. Where did you have in mind?"

His nose wrinkles delicately as he considers this before responding with, "Italy."

I can't help but laugh at the randomness of it all and Draco crosses his arms, quite put out with me. "It's not funny, Mother!"

"Of course not, dear," I say, quickly sobering. "But why Italy?"

"Because," answers Draco, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I want spaghetti."

Not two hours later, we're settling down to eat at Francisco's, Venice's finest restaurant. As Draco dines happily on his Spaghetti all'Arrabbiata, Lucius and I share small smiles of satisfaction.

Yes, those were days of noble resistance and glorious battles.

But I've no doubt the days to come will be even better.


End file.
